


Flirt

by gallifreyanlibertea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Alfred isn't usually a bad flirt, yet when Arthur brings out that side in him, Alfred finds that he can never go back.





	Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween

“What are you supposed to be, Peter?”

_“Harry Potter,_  Mr. Jones.” And Peter rolled his eyes, pushing his blond bangs up to expose the rather neatly-drawn lightning bolt on his forehead.

Alfred didn’t need to see the scar to believe that the boy was meant to be Harry Potter. In fact, he could see it in the very obvious Hogwarts Uniform and the wand Peter clutched in his little fist, yes, it was apparent enough.

But Lord forgive him for wanting to see that adorable little pout on Peter’s face, or the look of pure annoyance in Peter’s eyes as he informed the dumb adult in front of him, it was precious, really.

It reminded Alfred of the look he strived to pull out of the little boy’s father- A look, and really just any look from those eyes, that sent Alfred’s heart racing.

A look from the man who stood behind Peter with a similar, annoyed, green-eyed gaze, one hand on his hip, the other on Peter’s shoulder.

“You know, Peter, I actually have a wand that has a light-up tip. Call me to remind me the next weekend I go to my parents’ place and I’ll go get it for you.”

“Mr. Jones, you know I don’t have a phone,” Peter said with a giggle.

“Ah, well, you could just give me your dad’s number-”

“It was a good effort.” Arthur Kirkland said with brows that bounced up in tandem with the curve of Alfred’s abashed grin. “But no cigar. Try again later.”

Alfred laughed it off, watching as Peter shot away from Arthur’s side to play fight with Alfred’s own little angel, Amelia.

Alfred was grateful for the fact that she was still so young. Amelia was still obedient, still respectful, and most delightful of all, she still needed a chaperone to take her Trick or Treating, which meant Alfred would spend the next few hours attempting to woo Amelia’s best friend’s father- the man Alfred had been shamelessly in love with since he and Peter moved into the neighborhood a few months ago.

“I didn’t know we were required to wear costumes,” Arthur muttered.

“Heh, well Amelia insisted.” Alfred lied, hand rubbing at the back of his neck obliviously.

The obliviousness was faked, of course. Alfred was fully aware of his Superman costume and its emphasis on the body he’d been training at the gym. He was fully aware of the way Arthur’s eyes lingered on the contours of Alfred’s biceps before they glanced back towards the kids, who’d taken to running up their third driveway.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Well, you don’t seem too bothered by it.”

“Nah, I love Halloween.”

“I figured.” Arthur snorted, “You’re the closest to a child of all the adults I know.”

Alfred supposed that meant he was upgraded from  _weirdo neighbor_  to  _adult I know_  and he was fine with it. It was better than his situation last month, where he’d taken to jumping through hoops and hellfire to get the green-eyed man to spare him at least one glance. At least one smile.

Alfred never considered himself to be a bad flirt, yet Arthur had the power to reduce him to one. In fact, what was usually a two-minute endeavor to ask for someone’s number- “Hey, I’m your new neighbor! Here’s my number, I’d love to introduce you to the rest of the parents on the block, my daughter’s in your son’s class by the way!”

It became a- “H- uh, hey… I, um.”

“Yes?” Arthur had said, composure calm and cool. He’d had one hand on Peter’s shoulder, eyes inquisitive as he gazed at Alfred’s shuffling feet, at Alfred’s stuttering lips, at Alfred’s rather full shopping cart that he wished he could blame on Amelia if it weren’t for the fact that she had been at home with her grandmother that day.

“I-”

_Pull it together Alfred. Compliment his son or something! “Your son Peter seems smart”… ah, no, he seems cute? Yeah, he’s cute. He’s cute._

_Your son is cute._  It was a strange yet valid compliment that Alfred had wished came out of his lips that day. Instead- “You’re, uh, you’re cute!”

Fuck.

“Uh, I meant- no, I- can I get your number?”

Fuck!

Arthur had furrowed his brows. “I beg your pardon?”

And Alfred should’ve used his good-ole charm to salvage at least something from that disastrous conversation, but no. “Ah, nevermind.” He’d said instead, and he’d speed-walked his cart away from a rather confused Arthur Kirkland.

Which was one of the reasons he’d dreaded every second of Amelia dragging him up the Kirkland driveway only a week later, to sell Girl Scout cookies to the place where one of her newest friends lived.

It hadn’t been enough time for Alfred to heal. He had stood, head down in shame, as Amelia knocked on the door.

And Arthur had opened it, still as strangely-attractive as ever. Arthur with his old-man clothes clinging to his thin, small frame, politely-smiling lips forming accented words, “Well hello there, love!”

He’d then glanced over at Alfred, eyebrows furrowing as if wondering just where he’d seen Alfred before.

He’d then paused, cheeks flushing a slight red before he turned his attention back to Amelia. “I’ll buy a box of the Thin Mints.”

Alfred supposed it would be over with that, yet Amelia just had to go squealing into the house, trailing behind a Peter who had promised to show her his action figure collection. It left the adults lingering at the door. Alfred waited for Arthur to meet his gaze.

A small, curt wave. “Hi, I’m Amelia’s father, Alfred.” He’d said.

Arthur nodded. “I remember you.”

A slight smile on Arthur’s lips, albeit just polite, had been what Alfred had taken as a sign to crack a dumb, idiotic joke. “And I remember you. You’re still cute.”

Arthur had blinked and Alfred wanted to kick himself.

“I-”

Alfred interrupted the other man, “So our kids seem to be best friends now, yeah? It’s weird how quick they befriend each other.”

Arthur seemed grateful for the change in topic, “Yes, children never cease to amaze me.”

If anyone asked how it had come to be, that Alfred would shamelessly flirt with Arthur who’d, in turn, ignore Alfred’s advances, Alfred would take them back to those very first interactions. Those very first interactions that set a precedent, that sparked a realization in Alfred’s mind that somehow, despite wanting to die after every single time he managed to embarrass himself in front of the man, it was worth it seeing that pale, freckled face change color.

Alfred had become addicted to it. “It’s starting to get cold out here, I love autumn.” Arthur had said to Alfred one day, as the two made small talk by their mailboxes.

Alfred had smirked, “I already miss summer if it means I won’t get to see you in shorts for a year.”

Oh, the look on Arthur’s face had been delicious. A blend of annoyance, a roll of those eyes, and an abashed flush of those cheeks. 

Addicting.

Arthur watched as Peter scrambled back with his pillowcase significantly more full than Amelia’s.

Amelia buried her head into her father’s stomach, “It’s not fair, dad!”

“I’m sure Peter won’t mind sharing,” Arthur assured, and Peter scowled up at him.

“Dad!”

“That’s alright, Peter, I was gonna go buy Amy three bucketfuls of candy after this anyway,” Alfred said with a warm smile, and Amelia perked up.

“Sweet!”

And the two were back on their mission to raid the neighborhood of its candy.

“How long do you think we’ll be out here?” Arthur huffed, eyes blinking down at the time on his phone. “It’s been an hour already.”

“Let them have fun,” Alfred said with a grin, waving back as Amelia turned to proudly thrust her pillowcase in the air, one that had become fuller after the latest reap. “Besides, it’s not too bad out here with just you and me, is it?”

Arthur’s cheeks glowed red. “It’s nippy, I worry about Peter catching a cold.”

“He’s got a scarf and the thickest cloak I’ve seen,” Alfred replied. “If it’s you that’s cold, I’d be happy to warm you under my cape.”

A pause. A clear of Arthur’s throat. “Peter’s actually very happy Amelia agreed to be the Hermione to his Harry, they’ve gotten so close. This is their- what? Fifth outing together? Or do they call these ‘play-dates’?”

“Play-dates, yeah.” Alfred bit his lip, eyes glancing over to find Arthur rather deep in thought with his eyes trained on the ground. “Yanno, we should probably start having some of our own, since we’ll be seeing each other so much ‘cause of the kids.”

Alfred found himself snickering at Arthur’s flustered response. A string of sputtered words, cheeks blazing as eyes glared into Alfred’s own.

“Wh- why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like some high-school football-player flirt.” Arthur seethed, yet there was some degree of affection behind that mask of an expression. Alfred saw it in those smiling green eyes.

He saw it in the slight, abashed step Arthur took in the opposite direction as Alfred stepped closer. “I like annoying you, to be honest.”

“I get enough of that from Peter, I assure you,” Arthur said.

“I doubt Peter does it for the same reasons I do.”

“And what is that?” A roll of those eyes.

Alfred supposed Arthur didn’t expect him to be bold. Why would he, when Alfred had shied away from outright asking Arthur out- straight up, no jokes- so many times?

Hell, even Alfred didn’t expect himself to be so bold, but then again, he hadn’t expected to be so bold the first day he’d spoken to Arthur either. “I’ve been trying to go on a nice solid date with you for months now, yanno?”

Arthur stilled.

He shuffled his feet, something Alfred had never seen him do, no, because Arthur was too composed. This had to be the first time Alfred had gotten to him.

Alfred watched as Arthur checked his phone for the time, pocketing it to cross his arms, as if Alfred hadn’t said anything. 

Silence. 

His lips then parted for words, no doubt awkward ones to follow.

But Alfred was a grade-A idiot so he stepped to Arthur’s side, sweeping the smaller figure underneath his cape, an arm slung around those slim shoulders as if to shield Arthur from the harsh October wind.

“Wh-”

“Enough about me, how can a hero do nothing when you look so cold?” Alfred reasoned, and Arthur looked positively  _done._  He drew his brows together, he snapped at Alfred.

“God, Jones, you are a right creep.”  _A right weirdo. You’re such a child, who even says something like that in their thirties?_  The rest of Arthur’s insults had drowned out underneath Alfred’s boyish laugh.

And Arthur did this for the rest of the night. Yes, banter upon banter upon a frustrated Alfred struggling to keep up with comebacks.

Arthur had never moved out from under Alfred’s arm.

Alfred had triumphantly entered Arthur Kirkland’s contact into his phone by the end of the day.


End file.
